Felis Cas-us
by NixDucky
Summary: In which Cas brings a stray home.


**AN: Happy Birthday Worm!**

**The aim of this series of birthday fic presents was "short and sweet". As you'll see some of them got away with me, including this one. Let's call them semi-ficlets, yes? **

**As this work is a gift for my usual beta, it has not been beta'd. **

* * *

"It's a cat"

"I know it's a cat."

"Technically, that's a kitten," Sam said, walking into the library. He was carrying his laptop in one arm and holding a cup of what smelled suspiciously like green tea in his other hand. He nodded at the ball of mud, dried leaves and what looked like a mushed up piece of a McDonald's french fry squashed into the long fur of what might have been a tail, currently spitting from Cas's arms.

"Thanks Doctor Dolittle," Dean grumbled at his brother. Sam just shrugged and made his way to one of the desks, setting his tea and laptop down, before going to one of the bookshelves, obviously looking for something and not all that interested in the mini-showdown going on between his brother and Cas. He might have had a small smile on his face. Maybe. Sam was pretty sure he knew how this was going to end, and made a mental note to pick up some kitten food during the grocery run he had planned to do later on.

Cas just stood there, holding the angry furball carefully, and looking at Dean with a very solemn expression on his face.

Dean glared back at him.

Sam glanced over at them and stifled a snort.

Pointing at Sam—rather more viciously than was necessary, Sam thought—Dean said, "you shut it. This is not happening."

Sam lifted up his hands innocently. "I never said a word," he said, turning back to the row of books he was scrutinising.

Turning back to Cas, Dean then aimed his pointed finger at him. "This is NOT happening," he said again, with more emphasis.

Cas had started to tickle the fur, carefully working his way down to the french fry with the goal of removing it. The little ball had stopped hissing, but was eyeing Cas's hand suspiciously, ready to mangle it if necessary. The look in its eyes was very reminiscent of the look Dean had given Cas the first time Cas had exploded into Dean's life. Well. The first time he'd had a body, anyway.

Giving Dean what he hoped was a sad look, Cas walked past him towards one of the armchairs in the library and sat down, gently situating the kitten in his lap.

"Fuck my life," Dean muttered. "Now I must get puppy-dog eyes from both of them? How is that even fair?" Following Cas, Dean almost yelled at Sam, "Stop spending time with Cas!"

Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Look, Cas," Dean tried to make his tone as reasonable as possible. They could not keep a cat. "We can NOT keep a cat."

"Why not?" Cas didn't look up as he spoke. He was concentrating on not tugging on the little kitten's fur too hard while he gently pulled out the pieces of smooshed potato, before dropping them into a tissue he'd pulled out of his trench coat pocket. The kitten's eyes were starting to droop a little, and there might have been a small, very quiet vibration starting in its chest.

_Aw look, he's starting to… _Dean caught himself mid-thought. No. NOPE. Not happening.

"Why not?! Because—because…" Huh. Dean was sure there was a good reason. Had to be.

"Because who will look after it when we're on hunts?" Dean tried.

"We could leave food out. Anyway, cats are good at looking after themselves. And these days, there's generally _somebody _in the Bunker." Cas was talking quietly so as not to spook the kitten whose claws now seemed to be working their way into the fabric of Cas's pants, slowly kneading into Cas's legs as if he was starting to realise that Cas was a really good soft place to land. Dean watched the little paws, thinking that he could relate.

He shook his head, and tried again. "The Bunker is too big. What if it gets lost?"

Sam rolled his eyes again. He was now sitting at one of the desks, scanning an old leather bound volume, with a pile of similar looking books teetering next to his laptop.

"Cats have an excellent sense of direction. Many people let their cats roam outside you know, and they always know where home is." All the pieces of potato were now out, and Cas was working on the rest of the debris embedded into the fur. The cat was definitely purring now, but its eyes quickly opened, a little startled, as Cas gently got up and carried it towards the kitchen. Didn't stop purring though…

Dean followed. _The little guy looks so cute curled up in… _NO! Dean growled a little, and looked around, as if he was sure he'd find a good reason for why they definitely could not keep a cat lying around the Bunker somewhere.

"I'm allergic to cats!" he declared.

"Oh come ON!" Sam guffawed from the library.

Cas was now sitting at the kitchen table, with the kitten on the tabletop, gently wiping the mud from the kitten's fur with a warm, damp cloth. The kitten's fur seemed to be some combination of brown and gray with darker stripes, although it was still hard to be sure. It was watching the proceedings cautiously. Every now and then he'd look up at Dean, with large, pale blue eyes.

"Are cats supposed to have blue eyes?" Dean heard himself asking, distracted.

"Lots of cats have blue eyes," Sam called out. "But it's still young. Its eyes will probably change color. Like human babies."

"What?" Dean turned around and looked over at Sam, his eyebrows scrunched.

"What?" Sam asked back.

"Human babies' eyes change color?"

Sam nodded, but he was busy writing something down in a notebook and wasn't paying much attention to Dean.

"Huh," Dean said, turning back to Cas. "Where were we? Oh, right. I'm allergic." He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down, eyes drawn to Cas's hands. It was a little mesmerising, watching them gentle the little animal like that.

"You are not allergic." Cas stated blandly.

'I totally am!"

Cas gently placed the cat right in front of Dean on the table, and got up.

"Hey, what—? Where are you going?" Dean leaned away from the table. The kitten and Dean eyed each other suspiciously.

"I'm getting it some water…" Cas trailed off, opening a cupboard and rummaging in it. He emerged with a triumphant, "and some tuna!"

He turned around and looked at Dean, whose folded arms were resting on the table top. Dean was stubbornly ignoring the kitten who was—equally stubbornly— headbutting his elbow.

"And you," Cas continued, "are not sneezing. Your eyes are not red. And that cat is rubbing itself all over you."

It was. It really was rubbing itself against any part of Dean that it could get to now, purr on full throttle.

And Dean, whose hands were twitching, kept his arms tightly folded in case his hands did something he absolutely had not given them permission to do.

Cas dished a little tune into a small plate, and placed it and a small bowl of water on the table. He noticed that one of Dean's pinky fingers had rebelled and was surreptitiously tickling the kitten's back.

"Hey, isn't that tuna a bit rich for such a small little guy?" Dean asked sullenly, very aware that two more fingers had joined the scritching mutiny.

"A little tuna will be better than McDonald's fries. Sam will go get some proper food for him later." (Sam heard this and wondered, not for the first time, if Cas could read minds.) Cas nudged the food a little closer so that the cat would see and smell it. He seemed reluctant to move away from Dean, so Cas pushed it a little closer. He was pretty sure he wasn't imagining that the cat had pushed his body closer to Dean before stretching his neck out to sniff at the tuna.

Without moving away from Dean, the kitten lapped a little at the water and then nibbled at the tuna. He licked his lips cautiously and tilted his little head to one side, for all the world looking like he was pondering the meaning of life, before he leaned back down and quickly cleaned the plate. Cas had only put a little tuna down. He didn't want the cat to make himself sick on his first day with them. All the while, the cat had made sure he was touching Dean at all times. But when he had finished the tuna, and had a little more water, he looked up at Cas, his blue eyes looking way too big for his small head, and blinked slowly. Cas nodded and gave him a small smile.

Dean watched this exchange and wondered, not for the first time, if Cas could read minds. He gave a little sigh.

Cas looked over at Dean then, and he pointedly turned his sigh into a loud harrumph.

**7 months later.**

Sam walked into the library, carrying his laptop in one arm and holding a cup of what smelled suspiciously like a matcha latte in his other hand. Dean was horrified to discover that he knew what a matcha latte smelled like. Sam nodded at Benny, a pile of fluffy, tabby-striped fur (whose eyes had remained blue, with the result that Dean wasn't sure he believed any of Sam's changing-eye-color statements), who was curled up on Dean's stomach as he slouched in a tub chair, his legs stretched out and feet resting on another chair.

"How's he doing?"

"How would you be if your nuts had just been sliced off, Sam?" Dean grumbled at his brother.

Sam just shrugged and made his way to one of the desks, setting his latte and laptop down, before going to one of the bookshelves, obviously looking for something. He might have had a small smile on his face. Maybe.

Cas walked in and gave Benny a tickle. The cat stirred a little when he heard rustling and gave Cas's hand a grateful lick as Cas placed a catnip treat on Dean's belly, right next Benny's head.

"Well his appetite is fine. So I'm sure he doesn't feel too awful." Cas looked at the cat resting comfortably on Dean, as if Dean was the best place to call home. Cas could definitely relate, and he smiled to himself, well satisfied.


End file.
